


Candlelit Confessions

by bluecurls



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8283416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecurls/pseuds/bluecurls
Summary: It's fluffy. It's lemony. There's not much of a plot. You've been warned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Shaya Lonnie's birthday in 2015!

Remus Lupin sat on the sofa with a heavy sigh.

"You alright, Moony?" Sirius Black walked into the library, a tumbler of firewhiskey in one hand. Lifting the glass to his lips, he studied his friend as he swallowed the alcohol, the familiar burn of the liquor ignored as he considered the resigned look on the werewolf's face. "Feeling down about your birthday?"

Remus ignored his mocking tone. Despite the moping, he was handling another birthday with more grace than Sirius did five months earlier. It was just … Forty-five. He was forty-five. Young by Wizarding standards, but when Molly Weasley floated his birthday cake to the dinner table, encouraging the youngest guests to help the "birthday boy" blow out the candles, he felt a twinge of bitterness that not even the sweetness of Molly's double chocolate cake could ease.

It wasn't Molly's words or even the twins' trick candles that continued to light after each attempt to extinguish them. He expected more from them and was almost disappointed by their lackluster effort until the candles began shouting insults.

_"Come on old man!"_

_"Did you really expect a wolf his age to blow the house down?_

_"I guess huff and puff is all you can hope for, eh?"_

Remus laughed with the rest of them, his frustration forgotten in the gaiety of the moment, at least until _he_ pushed away from the table, a look of self-importance on his face as he thanked the Weasleys for their hospitality while he held out his hand to Hermione. She took it, though Remus would swear he saw her hesitate before she did. Her expression was apologetic as she said their good byes, walking around the table to hug and kiss everyone while he stood by the front door.

_"Do you have to go? We're going to go to the Leaky later," Sirius wheedled, his arms locked around her waist until she kissed both of his cheeks three times, a ritual that started as a joke years before but was now common practice. Remus glanced over his shoulder to gauge **his** reaction, but he too busy picking at a piece of fuzz on his wool overcoat to notice. If asked why he spun Hermione out of Sirius' hold and into his own, dipping the small witch low so his green eyes locked on her brown, he'd blame it on the cake, he wine, the lightness of the moment – anything to explain away the need to have her in his arms. _

_"How much have you had to drink?" she joked as she stared up at him, the smile on her face fading the longer he stared at her. So long. He had wanted her, ached for her, and dreamt of her for so long. He couldn't remember when it started, why it started. He was beginning to fear it would never end._

"Moony?"

Remus pulled himself out of his thoughts and watched as Sirius pulled on his battered black leather jacket. "Got a date?"

"Not yet," he winked. "Come on. Leaky. Birthday drinks. Harry said he'd meet us after he and Ginny got the boys to bed."

Remus shook his head. "Go without me. I think I've celebrated my birthday enough for one year."

Sirius sat on the arm of the sofa with a sigh. "Friends don't let friends remain sober on their birthday."

Remus snorted and lifted the glass of firewhiskey in his left hand, toasting Sirius silently before swallowing the alcohol in one gulp. "Satisfied?"

"It's a start."

Remus stood and stretched, ignoring the pop of his elbows as he lifted his arms over his head. "That's all you're getting from me tonight, Padfoot."

"Moony …" he groaned as Remus walked to the doorway.

"Really, I'm fine. Have a few drinks for me, alright?"

Sirius sighed heavily. "The things I do for you, old man."

* * *

 

He smelled her before he heard her, her scent reaching out to him like fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer and closer. "Hermione?" He lifted his head groggily, the book he fell asleep reading sliding from his chest to the floor with a heavy thud.

She stood in the doorway, barely a shadow in the darkness of his room. "Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't think anyone would be home."

He swung his legs off the bed, one hand reaching for his wand while the other patted the bed in search of the shirt he'd shrugged off earlier. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Ernie and I aren't together anymore."

His heart leapt at her announcement, but he kept his voice neutral as he whispered _Lumos_ to bring a bit of light to the room. Finally spotting his beige button-down shirt, he was shrugging into it when her tears stopped him. "Oh, Hermione," he soothed, his unbuttoned shirt forgotten as he approached her, surprised but not unpleased when she stepped into his arms, her cheek pressed against his naked chest.

"Thirteen months," she sniffed. "I wasted thirteen months,"

"It wasn't a waste," he countered, one hand low on her waist, the other rubbing circles on her back in a soothing motion. "Nothing is when you care about someone."

"That's just it!" she cried, pulling back to look at him. "I didn't care about him. Not like you mean!"

"What do you –"

"It was a relationship of convenience," she confessed.

"A what?"

"We both work at the Ministry," she explained in a rush, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "There are always events to attend. We're not required to bring a date, but every time I show up at something alone, Skeeter starts with the Lonely Hermione moniker in her columns. I used to take Ron to avoid it, but then he married Daphne, so when Ernie asked me to last year's Valentine's Ball, I said yes."

Remus tried to wrap his head around her hurried admission. "Alright," he said slowly. "That explains how the two of you got together, but that was –"

"Last year! I know! It was going to be a one-time thing, but then Charlie announced he was getting married and I wasn't going to show up at _his_ engagement party without a date, so I asked Ernie to help me out and then he asked me to be his date to Cho's wedding and it just got easier to go together since neither of us could be with who we really wanted."

"What do you –"

She untangled herself from his arms. "Ernie's gay, Remus! He's been seeing Blaise Zabini for almost a year."

"Wait; what?"

"Yeah," she huffed, yanking off her coat as she continued her story. "They are the cutest couple, but Ernie's dad is an intolerable prick who cares about his beloved reputation more than his son's happiness, so I served as his decoy." She threw her coat over his armchair. Her knotted scarf was still wrapped around her neck in a mess of twisted wool, so she turned her attention to that, not seeing the confused look on Remus' face.

"But you just said you and Ernie broke up."

"Well, we did! He finally got the guts to stand up to his father and proposed to Blaise. That's why we had to leave your dinner early. He was meeting Blaise."

"But if you weren't a couple –"

"Everyone thought we were! For thirteen months, I didn't have to deal with Molly trying to set me up with a 'nice wizard' or Ginny's attempts to arrange a date with a former classmate! I could pretend I was happy with Ernie and live my life how I wanted to without anyone telling me I worked too hard or that I read too much or that you were never going to –" she slapped her hands over her mouth.

Remus took a step forward. "What? I was never going to what?"

She shook her head, her hands still covering her mouth, her eyes wide.

"Hermione?" Gone was her anger, her tears, her frustration. In its place was … he didn't know. She looked nervous and scared, as if she nearly spilled something that was supposed to remain a secret.

"I'm sorry.” Her hands moved to wrap the scarf she just unknotted around her neck, her usual composed manner gone as she grabbed her coat, trying to stuff her arms inside the sleeves despite the fact she was holding it upside down.

"Hermione."

"No, don't. This was stupid. I had … I drank at dinner and I had champagne with Ernie and Blaise, and I just …" She threw the coat to the floor in frustration, her hands on her hips, her breath heavy as she glared at it.

"Hermione."

Her head snapped up. Her eyes narrowed. Now it was his turn to take a step back as she walked forward. "I'm not drunk," she told him, one hand yanking the scarf from her neck to fall to the floor.

"Alright."

"I'm tipsy, but I'm not drunk."

He cocked his head, not following her train of thought, though that was a common occurrence whenever she got worked up about something. "Understood."

"I know exactly what I'm doing."

He had to smile at that. "You usually do."

She studied him, her expression serious. Neither one moved as she had some kind of internal debate that ended with her nodding her head decisively. "Right," she said just before she leapt into his arms.

Instincts had him grabbing her, one arm tight around her waist, the other under her ass. He stumbled as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms twining around her neck. "Hermione, what are you –"

"I want you," she breathed, one hand tangled in his hair as she brought her head down to look him in the eyes. "I'm going to need a lot more alcohol if you want me to confess how long I've wanted you, so let's just start with that."

He opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't. Then her lips were on his and all of his sensibilities flew out the window as he reveled in his first taste of her. "Hermione," he moaned, his arms tightening as he shifted to bring her closer, desperate for more. The kiss was frantic, sloppy, bruising, their teeth catching in their urgency. He hissed as she slipped her lips down over his jaw and onto his neck. She kissed, licked, nibbled and bit. "Hermione, we shouldn't-"

She cut off his halfhearted protest. "I didn't give you your birthday present, Remus. I have it in my bag, wrapped in red paper with a gold ribbon. We can stop this right now, I'll give you your present and we won't speak of it again or …"

Her lips were on his neck once more. He arched his head back to give her better access, groaning when she sucked on the skin near his collarbone, knowing he'd bear her mark tomorrow. "Or?"

"Or you can unwrap something else."

His hand fisted in her hair. He tugged until she was looking at him. "You're not drunk," he repeated.

"Not at all."

He stared at her. Part of him knew he should stop. She may not be plastered, but she was tipsy. It would be wrong to use that to his advantage. The other part of him, the part that sounded suspiciously like Sirius, reminded him that he wasn't a fucking saint. The woman he'd lusted after for years had literally thrown herself at him. Why the hell was he hesitating? "Last chance, Hermione," he warned.

She leaned in until her teeth closed over his earlobe, not exactly gently. "Do your worst."

He spun around, his long legs bringing them to the wall in only three steps. He pressed her against the smooth surface, the strength of his body holding her up as one hand dove underneath her cream-colored blouse. "Off," he muttered, his face buried in the crook of her neck as he struggled with the silky fabric of her blouse. She brought her hands up to help, her fingers tangling with his as they worked to unbutton it. As soon as her midriff was exposed, he reached behind her and undid her bra, pushing it up onto her chest, out of the way. His hands cupped her breasts from beneath. He bent over and took one into his mouth, lips fastening around the sensitive peak. Lips, tongue, the gentle scrape of teeth. He shifted to the other tight nipple.

"Gods," she moaned as her head fell back. Remus lifted his head to study her, to memorize the image of her half-naked body pressed against his bedroom wall. One hand left her breast, the finger trailing lower and then skimming along her stomach, just on the inside of her skirt. She sucked in her breath.

"Off," he repeated, his hand moving to the zipper at the small of her back. She wiggled her hips as if to help, but he couldn't get it loose and keep his grip on her, too. With a sigh of regret, he let her slide down his body, murmuring his agreement at her moan of protest as he quickly lowered the zipper, letting the dark fabric pool around her booted feet. Following his lead, she pushed his shirt off of his shoulders before shrugging out of her own, her bra quickly following.

"Hermione," he breathed, taking in the vision of her in nothing but a pair of cream-colored silk knickers and high heeled boots. His finger ran lightly down to trace the edge of her navel before running over her hip.

"Remus," she pleaded.

His hand slid into her hair, holding the back of her head steady as his mouth came down hard against hers. His other hand came up to her lower back, pressing her hips into his, as he spun them around. He started walking, moving her backwards until her bum came up against the edge of his desk. He pushed her back against it, one hand holding her in place as he wedged his legs in-between hers, his lips hungrily devouring hers until she broke away to take a breath.

"Still not drunk?" he asked.

"Not on alcohol," was her ragged response.

He gripped her leg, bringing her thigh up around his hip, easing her backwards until she was resting against the desk. He kissed her again, slower, softer. His hand on her thigh shifted around to the front and slid down until his thumb brushed over the satiny fabric between her legs, just along her labia. He kept his touch light, teasing. He was desperate to take, but he didn’t want to rush the moment. He’d dreamt of it, imagined it, for so long. If he was going to hell, he was going to enjoy every moment of the ride.

Her hips pushed up against him as she sought more contact. His thumb edged under the satiny fabric against her skin, followed by a finger that moved unerringly between her puffy lips to tease at her clit for just a second before sliding down and slipping deep inside her.

He watched her as he pushed his finger slowly in up to his knuckle. She was flushed – her cheeks, her chest. Her eyes fluttered closed when he withdrew, only to snap open when he returned, two fingers this time, both crooked to find that spot in her that –

"Remus!" she gasped.

He rubbed his fingers over and over that spot until she was clutching at his arm, her hair, the edge of the desk. She mewled in pleasure. She swore softly. She chanted his name. His thumb swept over her clit once; then again, over and over until she was coming, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.

Remus waited until she stopped clenching around his fingers to withdraw them, shifting her hips up to push her panties down, though he left her boots on. " _Accio_ wand," he said, his hand clutching the cypress wood. He said the contraceptive spell quickly, the need to be inside of her greater than anything he felt before. She cracked her eyes open when his wand hit the floor, quickly following by his pants and boxers.

He stood between her legs, one hand under her bum to lift her hips while the other lined his cock up with her entrance. He swiveled his hips, the tip of his cock bumped against her clit. She was so wet. Why hadn’t he tasted her? He would. He promised himself before this was all over, he’d know every inch of Hermione Granger’s body, but right now, he needed to be inside her.

"Hermione," he groaned as he slowly slid inside.

She needed no encouragement to wrap her legs around his hips, flexing her ass up to meet every stroke as he thrust into her, a strong, steady rhythm. "Remus," she whispered. "More. Please, I want more."

He tightened his grip on her hip. She clutched his shoulders in response, her nails digging into his skin. "Baby," he groaned, lifting his other hand to cover one bouncing breast, kneading, gently pinching her nipple. She was moaning, gasping, calling his name. He answered each of her cries with one of his own. "So beautiful … Gods, I've wanted you … feel so good …"

He flicked his thumb over the bundle of nerves just above where they were joined together, making Hermione fall apart, saying his name on a long moan. He withdrew completely, helping her down from the desk. She looked at him with confusion.

"Still not drunk?" he asked.

Her laugh turned into a gasp as he flipped her over, her breasts pressed against the smooth grain of the desk. He pushed into her again. His hands gripped her waist as the room echoed with the rhythmic slap of his hips meeting her ass. He groaned as she pushed back to meet him as much as she could. He was rough. Hard. He could feel his orgasm building, but he held it at bay.

"Come again," he demanded gruffly. He shifted her back a little, enough to slip a hand around underneath her, once again finding her clit. "Come for me, Hermione." His finger slipped back and forth until he felt the walls of her pussy fluttering around him. His movements grew jerky and then he stiffened, holding himself balls-deep inside her as he finally let go.

* * *

 

"How long?" she asked.

He looked down at where she lay against him in his bed, her head on his chest, her fingers absently tracing one of the many scars etched into his skin. "How long what?"

"How long have you wanted me?"

He closed his eyes on happy sigh. "I don't want to answer that question."

"Remus."

"No," he was adamant. "It's my birthday –"

"It's after midnight; your birthday is over."

He continued as if he didn't hear her. "- and I can choose to not to answer that question."

"Fine," she pouted, though her smirk told him she wasn't really upset. "What did you wish for when you blew out the candles on your birthday cake?"

He smiled. "You."

She sat up, her expression both weary and hopeful. "Me?"

He leaned up to press a quick kiss against her lips. "Any thoughts on how long I get to keep you?"

She pretended to mull it over. "Well, I know there's at least one wedding coming up that I'll have to attend, not to mention the naming ceremony for Ron and Daphne's baby, Harry's birthday, my birthday ..." she ticked the items off on her fingers. "Will you be my date?"

His eyes narrowed. "Just so we're clear, I'd be a date-date, not the guy you bring to social events so people don't think you're alone."

She leaned forward until her lips were a breath away from his. "Remus Lupin, I fully intend to embrace the wedding tradition of having you up against the wall of a closet during the wedding reception; something I've never done with Ron or Ernie. I might even make it a tradition at other gatherings, too, if you're so inclined."

He kissed her, hard and brief, then again slow and involved. "I can't wait."


End file.
